The Taste of Life
by Seul Desir
Summary: Raziel discovers what it's like to be apart from his brethren and Kain. Lara Croft discovers what it's like when you don't know where the hell you are. (LOK & Tomb Raider)
1. Contempt

*A/N: This piece of fiction is not meant to copy anyone (mainly DragonSeer). It will be a crossover between LOK and Tomb Raider and is not intended to compete with any other fiction by any means necessary. So, please read and enjoy!

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In the darkness, accented only by the sphere of silver light amidst the scattered shards of cloud, lies fear. Every shadow contains suspicion. Each corner is taken with the utmost anticipation of death. In times such as these, mankind can do nothing _but_ anticipate a gruesome ending. In time such as these, silence, darkness, and stillness are mankind's demise.

The shadowed figure that lies in wait relies on those simple truths. Yellow, malevolent eyes peer through dark, slanted lids. Waiting. Watching. In this day and age the race of men have hunted... and have _been_ hunted. They have faced near extinction only to rise to power once more. The figure, bathed in shadow, sneered at the fortune of such creatures. Yes, he had once been a man, but all such associations have since died. What remained was something much more powerful, more feared, despised... and hungry.

Prowling free from sight, he neared his objective- a young girl who had so foolishly wandered off by herself. Didn't she know the consequences of her actions? She should have known that nightfall was the time when the Vampires came out to feed.

Long blonde hair fell over pale, exposed shoulders and stopped just below pert breasts. No one else appeared to be in the vicinity; the fair-skinned beauty was temptingly alone. Slinking closer, the vampire's golden eyes ran slowly, carefully across the scene before him, through the forest of trees and past the hills behind his prey.

He prepared to emerge.

Suddenly, another figure appeared and made its way toward the woman sitting on the ground. The vampire took notice of this new character's features: male, shoulder length blonde hair, soft complexion like powdered snow, and light blue eyes. Both humans. Both the perfect image of porcelain dolls.

The observer watched the male human sit next to his lover. His slender white fingers, he placed on her naked shoulders. The female closed her eyes and eased back her head, losing herself in the soft kisses that her lover placed on her throat and collarbone. Her own hands ran through his wavy hair, the exact color of her own. Fragile porcelain hands traveled up doll skirts and lips devoured each other in search of passion. Lust wove itself around the young couple in thick strands, encouraged by a single string, unlacing the front of the female's blouse.

But a vampire's thirst can only be so patient.

As the young couple continued in their lustful actions, the shadowed entity finally stepped into the clearing. He strode toward them, and upon reaching the two, he knelt and placed a single hand upon the woman's shoulder. Her eyes immediately flashed open, aware of an unknown presence. In result, her lover raised his head from her chest and gaped at the newcomer.

His eyes were an eerily magnificent golden hue; his hair, midnight black, strands falling in his eyes, decorating his pale face. But his complexion was not pale as the lovers'. Not rosy and flushed by movement of blood, but blank and pallid. He stared at them both, letting the two observe him. Gently, he stroked the woman's cheek, still locking eyes with her lover. As if the vampire's pupils held the male doll in a trance, the blue eyes turned from the yellow, and the pink lips resumed in their discoveries.

A gleam of hunger now flashed before the vampire. Slowly, he lowered his lips to the naked neck, shrouded in long, golden hair. Opening his mouth, long white fangs were suddenly exposed. In an instant, the sharp tips easily pierced his prey's tender flesh. A soft moan escaped her lips and her eyes squeezed tight; there was no doubt that she was in pain. A terrible feeling overcame her and the chill of the night air enveloped her in its cool embrace.

Suddenly, her whole body relaxed, her heartbeat slowed and her pulse died down. The elation that she was experiencing was forced to a rude halt and soon, all feeling drained through her jugular vein and into the awaiting vampire's mouth. Lapping up the last drops of blood, the mysterious figure paused for a moment and reveled in the ecstasy he experienced every time he fed.

Silently, he watched as the still warm body of the porcelain doll fell limp. Without another sound, he disappeared into the night, smirking with black lips as the male lover's screams echoed through the night as he found his partner dead, her pinks lips curved in a look of absolute agony. Resuming his trek, the vampire made his way to the only place that he was safe.

"Where have you been?" Was the first question posed to him as the raven-haired vampire entered his sanctuary.

"Amidst the joyful world that congratulates us without discrimination," he replied dryly.

"Don't be so sarcastic, Raziel. You'll choke on it one day. Is anything wrong?"

The vampire known as Raziel sighed. "No, Melchiah, nothing is wrong."

"Have a nice dinner, brothers?"

Another vampire strode into the hall, an arrogant smirk on his face. This vampire was Turel, second Lieutenant. Second to Raziel.

Raziel gave his brother a smile. "Evil never looked so happy. What did you feed on tonight?"

Turel made a motion to brush fake debris from his uniform.

"Oh, it wasn't _what_ I ate," he said silkily. "It was what I _observed_." A malicious twinkle shone across Turel's eyes. "You're getting sloppy, Raziel. You eat the damsel and not the company? But you find it fitting to leave him to tell the tale of our kind?"

The black-haired vampire snarled, "_Our kind_ has already been discovered, _Turel_. I take no part in exposing our race. And it was not meant to be sloppy, _younger brother_. The pain one feels when losing a loved one is the worst agony one could ever face." He paused for a moment and stared his kin down.

"You killed him, didn't you? After I left, you fed."

Turel shrugged. "I was hungry."

Raziel could do nothing to contain himself. His methodic voice was now acidic:

"I always knew you were meant for lapping up the scum that no one wanted. No act suits you better, Turel."

The second in command clenched his fists and quickly closed the distance between he and his brother. He spoke with contempt:

"You're older, yes, Raziel, but you cannot insult me thus."

"As a brother, it is my right," Raziel retorted calmly. "As your superior, it is my _duty_."

This infuriated Turel; it was bad enough that he was _second_ in command. Now he was being forced to swallow it.

"Just because you're First Lieutenant does not mean that you are the best. It simply means that you are..."

"Superior, Turel."

A new, chilling voice invaded the conversation. The three brothers raised their heads and looked toward the staircase that connected the first and second floors. Emerging from the shadows was another vampire, his white hair marking him unique among his kind. Turel and Melchiah took to their knees.

"My Lord," Turel began, "I meant no disrespect toward Lieutenant Raziel."

The white-haired vampire raised his head and peered down at his faithful subjects- two of which had bowed and one who had nodded in respectful recognition, as he never groveled.

"Kain, Turel and I had a misunderstanding. I trust that this issue will not arise again." He eyed his younger brother and received a hidden look of distaste.

"Brotherly love at its peak. Trust is a foolish act, Raziel; learn this here and now. But as it is, Turel, Melchiah, retire. Dawn threatens to approach. Raziel..." Kain gestured with a graceful hand movement, "... this way."

Raziel followed Kain through the hallway and into a room that Raziel was quite familiar with- the library. Expecting to be scolded or reprimanded, the Lieutenant waited patiently as his Chief paced about the room. Finally, an utterance.

"You have not been yourself lately, Raziel. Tell me, why spare the boy?"

The younger vampire did not back down, did not waver or lower his eyes. He stayed absolutely still and kept his eyes intent in Kain's.

"I was searching for change, Kain. Even you can't deny that we live for nothing. _Exist _for nothing."

Kain laughed his unmistakable laugh. The very tone of his voice could bring an empire to its knees.

"Raziel, Raziel... Life has never been completely charted and as long as change is one of the great facts of life, it will never be. Change is but one aspect of life. And I do not doubt that you grow weary. But anything can be changed."

"And what do you suggest I do?" 

"Leave, Raziel. Fulfill whatever it is you wish to accomplish and then return. I do not have to know your reasons for departing."

Raziel silently snorted. "Reasons. And what is to be said about those?"

"Reason is but choosing," Kain lectured. "And if you choose to leave, no one will stand in your way. Turel will not take your place."

The closest thing to a smile that Raziel could manage was a sadistic smirk. He wanted to see the look on his younger brother's face when he couldn't become First Lieutenant.

"I will leave tomorrow, then," he concluded. "But merely traveling by dark is not enough." For the first time in almost a century, Kain saw Raziel's head fall ever so slightly. Internally, it pained him to see his child, his creation, like this. Raziel loathed the dark gift, and Kain had given it to him.

With Kain's permission, Raziel left the library and retired until nightfall. The King of Vampires was left alone to think. He had seen what was to happen to Raziel; he had seen it all. But Raziel was independent, defiant, and strong-willed. He would not easily bend to the powers that opposed him.

Yes, Kain had seen it all, and Raziel was merely at the threshold. 


	2. Possession

"Stop her!"

A frenzy of shouts echoed throughout the cave as a group of men ran, desperately trying to find their way out of the underground maze. Hanging stalagmites threatened those who were too tall or who were oblivious to where they were going. Profanities dripped from the very walls as each man sprinted in, what they hoped was, the right direction.

Daylight appeared before her. The setting sun covered the sky with every imaginable hue of red and gold, hugging the horizon as the warmth of the day, which had previously been cupped within the sturdy hands of the earth, dissipated at an increasing rate. A single pair of boots emerged from the cave. Upon emerging, they did not stop, but yet gained speed and darted hastily to the right. The distinct sound of an engine being revved was met with more hurried cries from the mouth of the black cave.

Finally, the group of men stumbled out of the dark hole, eyes frantically searching the vast area around them until they settled on a jeep speeding straight for them. Diving for safety, the men screamed as the jeep almost burst through the lot of them. Smiling, the driver turned her body around and peered at the enraged and confused men through ruby tinted glasses. She waved and yelled behind her as she sped away.

"Nice working with you!"

Then grinning to herself, she touched the bag next to her that held her treasure. Some things just couldn't be shared...

With a short screech of tires and a momentary smell of burnt rubber, the jeep halted and Lara Croft swung open the car door. Snatching her satchel from the passenger seat, she relished in the weight of the bag. With a new bounce to her step, she made her way into her house.

"I'm home!" Lara called as the double doors flew open. The Tomb Raider ran her eyes over the interior of the mansion and noticed that it had been kept in impeccable condition despite her lack of presence. She always knew that she could count on Hillary to keep up with the chores around the house. Speaking of the butler, Lara's eyes whisked to him as she noticed his form dashing into the main room.

"Lara!" He cried, immediately reaching for her package, "It's so good to have you home!" Croft smiled and allowed her friend to take the bag that held her treasure.

"Did you miss me?" She asked rhetorically, for it was _evident_ that the butler had even dreaded her leaving. Hillary gave her a sarcastic look.

"You'll be happy to know that I wasn't the only one working in your absence. Bryce has a new toy to show you; says that it's one of his best yet."

Lara nodded and hurriedly made her way to the Tech Room where Bryce would surely be. Indeed, his hunched form hung over a computer monitor, completely unaware of her presence.

"You know, Bryce," she said, causing the tech to jump, "you should just move into the Tech Room. We all know you never bloody leave."

The tech immediately turned around and flung himself at Lara. "Oh, you're back! You'll love what I've just made you! Took me all week, it did, so you'd better like it!"

Shaking her head at the frantic man in front of her, Croft watched as Bryce hastily moved about the room until he finally reached the drawer he had been looking for. Lara smiled as she noticed that his absentmindedness lingered for a moment. Bryce rarely remembered important dates unless it had something to do with electronics or strange gadgets. With a small yell of triumph, Bryce carefully produced a small box from the drawer and handed it to Lara.

The tomb raider appeared skeptical. "What is this?" She inquired.

Bryce shook his head. "Well, you'll never know until you _open_ it!" He scolded. But Lara gave him a reprimanding look.

"You know as well as I do, Bryce, that your contraptions are devastating to figure out. Even if I do open it, I won't know what the hell it is!"

With a surrendering shrug, the tech took the box from Lara and opened the small white flaps that he had so delicately closed the night before. He couldn't wait for her reaction when she was informed of what it was. It was truly his best work ever. Of course, Hillary liked to poke fun at him, but Bryce knew that this stroke of genius would impress Lara far more than any other gadget he had jimmy rigged. Truthfully, the idea had frightened Bryce at first. How could such an achievement be obtained?

"This is what I spent all week on," Bryce said as he removed a small black object from the box. He handed it to a confused Lara; he loved keeping her in the dark. Lara showing ignorance was something that few people could get her to do. Bryce, however, received this compliment all the time.

"Okay," Lara sighed, "_what_ is it?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Bryce offered her a chair and sat down himself. "You are going to _love_ this," he beamed.

Taking the black object from her, the tech indicated each part with only the precision of the creator himself. Lara was thankful that she had Bryce as a friend every day; he was always creating new toys for her to use in the field, some of which had saved her life on more than one occasion.

"This, in simplest terms, is a fingerprint identifier, but a highly, highly advanced one. No, no, no, here me out! Listen, when the world's fingerprint contraptions can be fooled, this one can't. Prints can be wiped, right? Well with this little baby, it doesn't matter. It picks up even the slightest hint of evidence that no normal machine ever could. So say you're a thief and you wipe your prints from the scene, yeah? Bring in a regular Joe shmo with powder and a brush, you get nothin'! Why? Because there's nothing to find. Use this little baby, and you've got your thief red-handed, even though he wiped the evidence."

Lara narrowed her eyes. "Are you serious, Bryce? Don't be wasting my time; I have a new relic that I've discovered and I'd very much like to..."

"No, Lara!" The tech pleaded. "You've got to hear me out! Okay, I'm not explaining it too well and it seems that it's a joke, but it's not! I was scared by it at first, but it's true. Here, here's a different example: you touch an apple but don't decide to eat it. Someone else comes along and washes that apple. There are no fingerprints anywhere, no DNA, nothing. But does that mean that you never touched the apple?"

Suddenly Lara became very interested. She could see where Bryce was going with this at last.

"Perhaps a demonstration, Bryce?"

"Of course! Of course! Okay, here, hold the identifier and press this button right here. Aim it at the keyboard."

Lara followed Bryce's instructions and watched as a blue laser emitted from a tiny hole in the machine. It traveled the length of the keyboard until the light was sucked back up into the identifier. Croft looked at Bryce inquisitively. In reply, he indicated a glass screen on the side of the gadget, and in no time, a list of names appeared.

"Ha!" Bryce yelled. "I told you it works! Now, let's wipe down the keyboard and sterilize it. Then we'll run it over again."

They did so and the same names appeared as before.

"Are you sure that it just doesn't store it in the memory?" Lara asked smartly. Bryce waved off the question.

"Alright, you're still not a believer. Let's try it on something else then, but we'll wipe it down first. Give me your boot."

Without hesitation, Croft removed her boot and handed it to Bryce. Not touching it directly, he quickly rubbed the boot down and sterilized it. In a moment, the blue laser was caressing the leather material. The glass screen showed seven names.

_Lara Croft, Alex West, W.C. Hillary, Marco Rodriguez, Michael Dawn, Taryn Evens, and Douglas Fenning._

The tomb raider gasped as she recalled the majority of the names. Marco Rodriguez had been at the archaeology site the previous week with her. He had grabbed her boot in attempt to try to stop her from fleeing the cave, but to no avail. Hillary, of course, shined her boots. Alex West...? When had he touched them? She hadn't even seen the man in six months! Michael Dawn, she remembered after many moments of thought, was the man who had sold her the boots. And then there were the last two names; who were they?

Bryce had already supplied the answer. By reaching the website of the company, there were two smiling faces with the names Taryn Evens and Douglas Fenning, the manufacturers, holding up a single pair of shoes. Lara was in complete shock. It settled in her stomach and climbed up her throat, grabbing her vocal cords in a tight fist.

Bryce smiled broadly, unable to contain his excitement. "Impressed?" He asked.

"My god, Bryce," Lara whispered. "You are a genius!" Kissing him rapidly on the head, the tomb raider grabbed her new toy and hurried out of the room leaving a very satisfied tech to himself.

A few hours later, Lara sat by a roaring fire, its glow emanating radiantly from each wisp of flame. The satchel that she had stolen earlier was now in her lap and from it, she produced an intricately decorated box, curious engravings embellishing the entirety. She stroked it affectionately, admiring each marking in turn. A calm sense of eeriness settled upon her as she laid her hand upon the box. She had not yet opened it, but now was as good a time as ever.

Carefully, she slid a tiny iron rod from two aligned holes that closed the container. With not much effort, Croft slid the lid backward and gasped at what was inside.

A dark, tortured hand still held the hilt of a sword. A dark black liquid clung to the hand as well as the fragment of weapon. This, Lara assumed, was blood. Her heart pounding through her body, Croft gazed at the fingers, still clasped in a deathly grip about the golden hilt. Suddenly, an idea sprung to her mind. Reaching inside her backpack that she still wore, her hand emerged with the fingerprint identifier that Bryce had given her just a few hours ago. The FPI's glass screen was blank; it seemed to beg for something to do. With a moment's hesitation, the tomb raider pressed a small button and watched as the machine came to life, the familiar blue light shooting from the almost non-existent hole.

As soon as it had started, the FPI was done. Fifty-three names appeared on the screen, causing Lara to become increasingly interested. However, most of these names were quite foreign and very few had more than one name at all.

"_Vorador?_"Lara read curiously. "_Moebius_?" She had never heard of these people in her life. Scrolling down, she read the very last name on the list.

"_Kain_?"

Just as soon as she had spoken that word, the hand leapt forward, its fingers still holding the hilt of the sword. It dove for Lara in a quick, fluid motion, the blood-soaked portion of blade threatening to slice her. Pushing the back of the chair with all of her weight, Lara rolled backward as the seat fell to the floor. With the speed of a professional, Lara grabbed both of her guns, but the possessed hand was too fast for her. As one shot was fired off, Croft felt the unmistakable pain of her flesh being pierced. Head spinning, Lara fell unconscious.

Her fingers remained wrapped defiantly around the triggers.


	3. Control

Rain thudded heavily on the cold, mud-packed earth. The black clouds, overflowing with the dangerous liquid, fell toward the ground and hovered precariously above every cathedral and swampland alike. Above the rest of the sanctuary, Raziel sat in a darkened alcove, rain falling so close it nearly grazed his pale skin. A stone overhang allowed the streaming downpour to cascade in front of the vampire, who stared at death with steady eyes.

A simple crack in the structure, a simple wind change, could quite possibly be the commencement of an exceedingly painful torture session. Despite this fact, Raziel crouched, mere inches from the deadly element, taunting it silently, daring the winds to alter their course and eat away his flesh. Let it wash over him, spray in the stone enclosure, and satisfy the vampire's dry thirst for liquid sustenance other than blood.

Raziel considered his options.

"Raziel."

The infallibly serene vampire unexpectedly flinched, almost hurtling from his dizzying perch onto the scorching earth of liquid fire. Before his body grazed the curtain of rain, Raziel lurched backward and slammed into the stone wall behind him. An ominous chuckle filled his ears. Raziel didn't need to look to know who had decided to show up.

Calmly walking down the tight spiral staircase Raziel was revealed to the muscular form of Kain, arms crossed and a dangerous glint decorating his fierce yellow eyes.

"Not leaving tonight, are we?"

"If I were not so vilely prohibited," Raziel replied.

"Ah, the gods work in mysterious ways."

Raziel's lips curled into a mischievous smirk. "Gods, Kain? Personal remarks are the height of ill-breeding."

Kain let out a hearty laugh, throwing back his head and exposing his sharp, bone-white teeth.

"Your absence will be missed greatly, Raziel. Although bear in mind that it is my "ill-breeding" that sustains your existence."

"A gift that I am burdened with," the younger vampire agreed. Kain nodded solemnly, yet his golden eyes remained transfixed on Raziel's throughout.

"Your destiny lies in a labyrinthine purgatory, Raziel. To tell you that your future is uncomplicated would be to deceive you. All I can offer you is advice to commit to your actions with your wisest judgment possible."

The black haired vampire furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed; he chose, however, to not reply. If he had learned anything in his millennia of his vampiric life, it was to not admit your confusion to an entity stronger than yourself lest you give away more ignorance than you had originally planned.

"Your mind is chaotic, Raziel. Even fleeting thoughts receive your utmost recognition. Why, Raziel? Why think of such trivial matters? You have no reason to be troubled."

Raziel clenched his teeth, but Kain beckoned him to speak:

"Your tongue has not been lacerated, Raziel. Speak, or it shall be."

A moment of intense silence clouded the darkened room. The younger vampire stared out of an adjacent window and watched absently as the rain thrashed the ground, mutilating the dirt.

"You know that I am thankful for this gift, Kain. But each decade that transpires, a fragment more of me decays into nothingness. I fear Turel will have his lieutenancy before the next year."

A graceful hand slinked to Kain's chin. He thought for a moment. "Turel remains incompetent and unworthy of such a title. You, above all of us, should know this. Your superior lieutenancy is not all that stands between yourself and Turel."

The older vampire's voice hung in the air after he spoke. The distinguished resonance echoed hauntingly in Raziel's mind, unnerving with its disturbing familiarity.

"I simply do not wish to linger and tolerate conformity. I remember nothing of my human life, what or who I was..." He set his eyes intently on Kain. "All I know is what you deem worthy enough to utter to my ignorant corpse."

"What I know of your past is better left in your crypt. Believe me, Raziel."

Raziel sighed. "Believe you? Haven't you told me that trust is an admittance of naivety? _Believe you?_"

Suddenly Kain moved closer. In a split second his hand was wrapped around Raziel's throat. The younger vampire gave no resistance and showed nor felt any fear. A sharp thumbnail pressed deep into his jugular vein, drawing blood instantly. Kain's breath touched Raziel's face with unnatural heat. The passionate warmth of a human form ignored that of the cursed vampires. A vampiric life meant a cold existence in darkness, a life forever bathed in shadow.

A thin red line of blood ran from Raziel's punctured neck; Kain's nail still lightly pressed into his son's jugular vein. Raziel's breathing intensified as he began to lose more and more blood; he hadn't fed in hours and his eyes began to flutter, desperately trying to stay open.

This attempt failed when a sudden rush of pain engulfed his entire body. This pain steadily grew to an intense pleasure, causing the younger vampire to lose control; his eyes closed as he felt the familiar smooth enamel of teeth plunge into his skin. Raziel's body completely succumbed to the will of Kain, and his mind reeled with a sense of inescapable vertigo.

In the past, Kain used this method to calm his sons down, mostly Raziel. So much responsibility was always placed on the eldest lieutenant, but he never showed his emotions. Because of this, Kain had found Raziel's release: being nearly drained of blood to the point of death. It was the only thing that cleared his mind, made him feel at ease. And it was a travesty. To feel nothing about your existence so much that your only escape is to feel less alive...

But Kain couldn't stop it.

At dusk, Raziel, only a handful of centuries old, would intrude upon his lord's chamber and demand his comfort. At first, Kain refused. But as time went by, it became an anticipated ritual. All Raziel had to do was walk through the looming doors of Kain's chamber, barely make eye contact, and stare into the darkened room, silently willing the white haired vampire to sneak up behind him, come to him directly, and sink his gleaming and desired fangs into Raziel's life-prohibited flesh.

These occurrences, among many others, Kain noticed, were the reasons for the strong bond between himself and Raziel.

A desperate moan snapped Kain to attention. His mouth reluctantly but obediently separated from its feast; the vampire king pulled away from the already healing wound and exited the tower.

Raziel sank to the floor as Kain vanished from sight. His body heaved in exhaustion as he leaned back his head to touch the chilling stone. He knew he would be weak for some time. He knew he had to feed. Raising himself unsteadily from the floor, the pale vampire slowly made his way to the door and exited the tower.

"You look terrible, Raziel. Paler than usual!"

"Thank you, Melchiah," Raziel replied as he walked through the hallway to his chamber.

"Did he drain you again?"

No answer.

"Fine, okay. I won't bother you anymore..."

"Now, Melchiah, don't be absurd," said a new voice. "Raziel can take _anything_; he is our lead lieutenant after all."

"Hold your tongue, Turel," Raziel spat, in no mood to be irritated.

But Turel continued, drawing attention from the rest of their brothers. "Why don't you _make me_, Raziel? What... too weak?"

The antagonist sent a fierce blow to Raziel's back, causing him to fall to the ground. Raziel was in no shape to fight right now and Turel knew it; he would never start a fight with his older brother in regular circumstances. All of the brothers knew that Raziel was the most powerful, the strongest. It was fear that kept them all in line. And from that fear grew respect. At this moment, Turel took advantage of his brother, relishing in the fact that he would receive no resistance.

"Turel, don't do this," the first lieutenant said quietly, trying to subdue his anger. But Turel kicked Raziel again and laughed malevolently.

Suddenly, Raziel was on his feet, eyes blaring with an intense heat. Blindingly, he moved toward Turel, picked him up by his throat, and shoved him violently against a wall. Melchiah, Dumah, Rahab, and Zephon stood dumbfounded, not believing what their eyes beheld. Raziel retained barely a pint of blood in his body, and yet he was moving fluidly, deftly. A terrified gasp emitted from Turel's lips as his brother's teeth sank into his neck.

"Raziel, what are you doing!" He cried frantically.

Soon, his vocal cords no longer functioned. His lungs gasped for precious air. Raziel was draining his younger brother out of anger and a desperate hunger that ravaged his corpse. The sustaining life force now drained from one lieutenant to the other until Turel felt his body losing consciousness. And then he was on the floor on his knees, grasping his throat. He looked up at Raziel with terror in his eyes.

"How could you do that?" He inquired, not understanding his brother's motives. But Raziel felt his actions were justified. He picked up his foot and pressed his boot on the back of Turel's neck, forcing his head to touch the floor beneath him.

"Now you know from whom to take orders, Turel. Remember your place when I am in your presence." He pressed his foot down harder, causing Turel to quietly protest with a painful moan.

"Right here," Raziel whispered, "beneath me, kissing the ground I walk upon. Is that clear? I said _is that clear!_"

The four onlookers nodded as well as Raziel unpinned Turel from the ground. Without another word, the vampire walked away and entered his chamber. His five brothers exchanged glances of horror. Never before had Raziel demonstrated so much power, especially against his own brethren. If Raziel was that powerful without blood, the mind could merely fathom the possibilities of his strength with a full resource.

Grumbling, Turel ordered his brothers to help him up.


End file.
